Lady Be Good Read online

  He explained, although, in Emma’s opinion, he placed unnecessarily negative emphasis on her leadership skills.

  When he was done, Torie said, “So you’re really a lady?”

  “Yes, but I don’t use my title.”

  “I sure as hell’d use my title if I had one.”

  “That’s what I said.” Kenny shot Emma an I-told-you-so look.

  Emma gave up.

  “Wynette’s not that far from Austin, Lady Emma.” Torie uncoiled from the stool as gracefully as a lynx and headed to the sink to rinse off her sticky fingers. “And it’s a real nice town. As long as you’re in Texas, why not see how the natives live instead of just hitting the tourist spots? Kenny can take you back and forth to the UT library whenever you want, and San Antonio’s not that far either. What do you say? As a gesture of feminist solidarity, will you help me get him back to his home-town?”

  “She doesn’t have any say in this,” Kenny responded, clearly irritated.

  Emma thought about it. Despite what she was telling everyone, her primary purpose in coming to Texas wasn’t to do research. As long as she had access to the libraries she needed, she could finish that up in a few days. Far more important was the task of casting a shadow over her character, and she could do that just as easily in Wynette as anywhere else. Besides, being in the presence of a woman as outrageous as Torie Traveler was bound to upset Hugh. And it might be easier for Beddington’s detective force to keep track of her in a small town. She had to admit the idea of having her base in Wynette was more appealing than moving from one impersonal big city hotel to another. “All right. Yes, I suppose that would work.”

  “No,” Kenny said. “Absolutely not.”

  “Just think about our stepmama,” Torie said to him. “She’ll wet her pants having a real, live member of the British aristocracy in town.”

  “The best reason of all to stay away,” he retorted.

  Torie’s expression grew cagey. “Do I have to remind you about a certain Christmas morning during our childhood when our mother showered you with a couple thousand dollars’ worth of presents, but never got around to buying me anything?”

  Emma straightened. What was this?

  Kenny shot his sister an exasperated look. “I’ve spent the last seventeen years trying to make up for our dysfunctional childhood, and you’re not putting me through any more guilt trips.”

  “Or maybe I should bring up the time I bought that great big Minnie Mouse cookie with my allowance money. It had those cute little sticky-up ears and a bow across the top. Remember the fit you kicked up because you wanted it, and how she slapped me across the face when I refused to give it to you? You stood right in front of me and ate the whole thing while I watched.”

  He winced. “Torie, everybody in the world knows that she was crazy and I was a spoiled brat!”

  “I remember there were a couple bites of that hair bow left over—”

  “Torie . . .” His voice sounded a warning note.

  “But instead of giving them to me, you threw them in the—”

  “All right! You win, damn it! But this is against my better judgment.”

  For a moment Torie appeared almost fragile. Then she curled one arm around his neck and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Thanks, bubba. I owe you one.”

  “You owe me more than one,” he sighed. “But I’ll still never catch up.”

  Chapter 7

  “Surely your sister exaggerated,” Emma said. “Your mother couldn’t really have permitted such a thing.”

  Kenny pointed toward the passing landscape through the Cadillac’s window. “Look at those bluebonnets over there. And that red’s Indian paintbrush. Isn’t this just about the prettiest view you’ve ever seen?”

  He obviously didn’t want to talk about his childhood, and, once again, Emma let herself be distracted by the beauty of the Texas Hill Country. They were west of Austin now, not far from Wynette, on a two-lane highway that offered breathtaking vistas of rugged hills slashed with limestone and expansive valleys carpeted with fields of wildflowers, some stretching nearly as far as the eye could see. Since they’d left, she’d spotted her first Texas longhorn cattle, glimpsed several deer, and watched a bird Kenny identified as a red-tailed hawk circle a ribbon of crystal-clear river that sparkled in the sun. Now, however, she forced her attention away from the view to once again concentrate on piecing together the story behind what she’d heard this morning. Even though it was none of her business, she couldn’t seem to help herself. She simply had to know more about him.

  “Tell me about your childhood, Kenny. I’m only inquiring as an educator, you understand. I’m fascinated by the effect upbringing has on adult behavior.”

  “Believe me, if I’d let my upbringing affect me, I’d be locked up in a penitentiary somewhere.”

  “Was it really that bad?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. You know those old teen movies where there’s always this nasty rich kid who tortures the poor but valiant hero?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I was that nasty rich kid.”

  “I don’t believe it. You’re immature and annoying, but you’re not cruel.”

  He raised one eyebrow at her.

  “Please tell me.” She unwrapped a package of cheese and crackers she’d hurriedly purchased when he’d stopped for petrol and it became apparent that he had no interest in lunch.

  He shrugged. “Everybody in Wynette knows how I was raised, so I guess you’ll hear about it as soon as you hit town.” He slipped into the left lane, passing a pickup. “My mother was beautiful, born rich, and not exactly known for her brains.”

  Emma immediately thought of Torie, then decided that wasn’t fair. She suspected that Torie Traveler was extremely intelligent, but hid it just as her brother did.

  “My father grew up poor,” Kenny said, “but he was smart and hardworking. I guess it was a case of opposites attracting. They married quick, then found out they basically hated each other’s guts. Neither of them would consider a divorce. My father won’t ever admit he’s failed at anything, and Mother said she couldn’t live through the disgrace.”

  “Rather old-fashioned.”

  “My mother spent her life on that thin edge between neurosis and psychosis, with psychosis winning out as she got older. She was a classic narcissist married to a man who ignored her, so, as soon as I was born, she made me the center of her life. Whatever I wanted, she gave me, even if I shouldn’t have had it. She never said no, not about anything. And because of that, I was supposed to worship her.”

  “Did you?”

  “Of course not. I paid her back with bad behavior, and the more she indulged me, the more I pushed her. Then, whenever something did go wrong in my life, I blamed her for it. I was just about the most unpleasant child you can imagine.”

  No wonder, she thought, feeling a stab of pity for the boy he’d been, as well as reluctant admiration for his honesty. “Where was your father while all this was going on?”

  “Building his company. I guess he did his best when he was around. He made sure he pointed out all my faults and practiced some harsh discipline, but he wasn’t at home enough to be effective. I was such a repulsive little cuss I can’t blame him for not hanging around more.”

  But he did blame him. Emma heard it in his voice. What a confusing upbringing it must have been to have one overly indulgent parent while the other only criticized. “From what I heard earlier,” she said carefully, “I gather your mother didn’t feel the same way about Torie that she felt about you.”

  “That’s what I really blame her for. I was four when Torie was born, and, like any four-year-old, I didn’t cater to having a stranger in the house. But instead of protecting Torie, Mother abandoned her to baby-sitters. Nothing was going to upset her perfect little Kenny, you understand. Certainly not another female in the household.”

  “Your poor sister.”

  He nodded. “Luckily, my father fell in love with Torie the m
oment he set eyes on her. When he was home, he kept her right by him, gave her all his attention, and made sure the baby-sitters reported directly to him. But he wasn’t home enough, and she’s still got a lot of scars.”

  Torie wasn’t the only one with scars. His father’s favoritism of his daughter must have been just as damaging as his mother’s overindulgence. “Where’s your mother now?”

  “She died from a brain aneurysm just before I turned seventeen.”

  “And you were left with your father.”

  “One other person had shown up in my life by then, and, for some reason I can’t imagine, he took an interest in me. He taught me everything I know about golf, and, at the same time, he made sure I learned the hard rules of life. Man, was he tough. But he gave me a chance.”

  Interesting that it was someone other than his father who’d seen his potential. “Who was he?”

  Kenny didn’t seem to have heard. “One lesson he taught me early on was how to treat my sister.” He laughed. “He’d call her up right before we headed out for the golf course, and he wouldn’t let me tee off unless she told him I’d been behaving with her. Can you imagine? A seventeen-year-old boy held hostage by his twelve-year-old sister.” He laughed again. “Fortunately, Torie doesn’t have much bloodlust, and after the first few months she lost her appetite for revenge. Not too long after that we discovered we liked each other. We’ve been just about each other’s best friend ever since.”

  “What about you and your father?”

  “Oh, we got ourselves straightened out a long time ago.” He spoke too casually. “Once I started to win some golf tournaments, he realized I wasn’t completely worthless. Now he sets up his whole schedule so he can watch me play.”

  So that was how Kenny had earned his father’s approval. By winning golf tournaments.

  While she was pondering the fact that child abuse came in many forms, the cell phone rang. Kenny answered, gave her a puzzled look, then handed it over. “Some guy who says he’s a duke.”

  Emma set down the cheese and crackers she hadn’t gotten around to eating before she pressed the phone to her ear. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

  “It’s not afternoon here, my dear,” that unpleasantly familiar voice responded. “It’s late, and I should be in bed, but I’ve been too worried about you to sleep. Where have you been? I was told you didn’t return to your hotel last night.”

  So, his watchdogs were in place. “Last night?”

  “I know you were there, of course—where else could you have been?—but I wish you would have called.”

  “But—”

  “Why did you check out of the hotel? I thought you were going to stay in Dallas.”

  She found it unsettling that he didn’t even consider that she might have been out carousing all night. It occurred to her that he had an unfortunate habit of believing what he wanted to believe.

  “Kenny and I are on our way to Wynette. It’s his hometown. As for last night—”

  “Wynette? That sounds familiar. Why on earth are you going there?”

  “Kenny has some personal business to take care of. I said I’d accompany him.”

  “I see. And where will you be staying?”

  She’d planned to stay at a hotel, but now she realized she couldn’t afford that type of conservative behavior. “I’ll be staying at Kenny’s ranch, of course.”

  Kenny swerved.

  She clutched the dashboard as Hugh began to sputter. “Impossible! He’s an unmarried man, and you can’t stay there by yourself.”

  “I’m so sorry to upset you, but it’s necessary to my research. It’s very important for me to . . . fully experience the Wild West.” There! she thought. Let him make what he would out of that.

  “I’m gonna give you some Wild West,” Kenny muttered.

  She slipped her hand over the mouthpiece and shushed him.

  “Emma, my dear, apparently it hasn’t occurred to you that you’re being a bit careless in your behavior. Even in a foreign country, you need to be more circumspect.”

  She drummed her fingers on her lap as he began to lecture her about propriety, his family name, and her reputation.

  “You’re staying in a hotel,” Kenny said when she was finally able to hang up. “Not at my ranch. Now suppose you tell me who that was and what he wanted.”

  Even though he’d just shared some painful details of his private life, she wasn’t anxious to do the same. “It was Hugh Holroyd, Duke of Beddington. He owns St. Gert’s. Do you think you could slow down a bit?”

  “How did he get my cell phone number?”

  “I have no idea. He’s quite an influential man, and he has a way of unearthing things. Look! More wildflowers!”

  “I think it’s time you tell me exactly what’s going on here.” He spoke in those deadly, humorless tones she was growing to dread.

  “Pardon?”

  “I’m starting to get a funny feeling right behind my knees. It’s the same feeling I sometimes get just before I miss a four-footer.”

  Without warning, he angled the car off the road into a small graveled area that held three picnic tables, one of which was occupied by a family with two young boys. He got out of the car, but she decided to stay where she was.

  He opened her door and gave her a look that promised he’d pull her out if she didn’t get out on her own. She grabbed her umbrella at the last second to annoy him, then did her best to poke him in the head as she popped it open. “The sun is beastly.”

  “Not nearly as beastly as my temper.” He snatched away the umbrella, pushed it shut, and threw it back in the car. With the family of picnickers watching curiously, he steered her past the last table toward a gnarled tree on the perimeter of the picnic grounds that afforded them a small measure of privacy. Releasing her arm, he drilled her with eyes that reminded her far more of surgical lasers than marsh violets. “Start at the beginning.”

  “The beginning of what?” she said carefully.

  “Cut the crap. My instincts have been telling me all along there was something strange about this whole situation, but I made the mistake of not paying attention. Now, I’m going to spell it out for you. I have a suspension hanging over my head, my career’s in jeopardy, and that means I can’t afford to head blind into someone else’s problems. You tell me exactly what’s going on.”

  She’d never thought of herself as fainthearted, but he looked entirely too formidable. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Let me remind you that you’re standing in the middle of a foreign country with a man who recently got suspended for drug dealing along with smacking a woman.”

  Before Torie had left, she’d told Emma what had happened with Kenny’s business manager. “You weren’t suspended for drug dealing, and I don’t believe you about the woman.”

  “Honey, I’ve got the video.”

  “Really, Kenny, this isn’t any of your business.”

  “Bull! My career’s on the line, and I’m not risking that for anything. What’s your relationship with this guy?”

  “I told you. The Duke of Beddington owns St. Gert’s. He’s also the school’s principal benefactor.”

  “And?”

  As she studied the grim set of his mouth, she felt a pang of nostalgia for the good-looking fool she’d originally taken Kenny to be. “And, nothing.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “I guess I misjudged you. I figured you had some guts, but you don’t even have enough courage to be honest.”

  That stung. “This has nothing to do with you!”

  He didn’t reply, merely studied her, and she could have sworn she saw disappointment in his expression. It made her feel like a coward. But she hated the idea of revealing the intimate details of her life, especially when those details would make her seem pathetic in his eyes.

  “You’re being absolutely beastly about this,” she said.

  He waited.

  He was right. She was being cowardly, and everything
would be much easier if she simply told him. After that, she’d be able to accomplish what she had to without trying to hide it from him. If only the truth weren’t so embarrassing.

  The two young boys at the next picnic table began chasing each other. She envied them their freedom. “All right, I’ll tell you,” she said reluctantly. “But you have to agree to let me stay at your ranch.”

  “We’ll talk about that after I hear your story.”

  “No. You have to promise me first.”

  “I’m not promising anything until I hear what you have to say.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the trunk of a hackberry tree.

  She mustered her courage by reminding herself that she hadn’t done anything wrong, and she certainly didn’t need Kenny Traveler’s good opinion, but somehow that didn’t make her feel any better. “The Duke of Beddington is a very powerful man in England,” she began hesitantly. “An old family. He seems to have a genius for investing in new technology, and he’s quite rich. Unfortunately, he’s also a bit mad. He’s . . .” She pleated her shorts with her fingers. “Well, he wants to marry me.”

  He watched her carefully. “Seems to me most women would be flattered at the idea of marrying a duke.”

  “Believe me, there’s nothing personal about his offer. He has two girls from his former marriages, and he needs a male heir. The woman has to be wellborn and have a spotless reputation. God forbid that the family name should be soiled by a commoner with a normal sex life.” She realized the implications of what she’d said and went on hastily, “I know it sounds like something out of the seventeenth century, but he’s deadly serious. I refused him, of course, but he paid no attention.”

  She went on, telling him about her panic when Hugh threatened to sell the school and the plan she’d conceived out of desperation. “I had to agree, Kenny. I can’t let him close St. Gert’s. But I can’t marry him, either.”

  Warming to her topic, she described her plan to scandalize Beddington just enough so that he would call off the engagement. When she was finally finished, Kenny stared at her for a moment, then walked over to the nearest picnic table and slumped down on the bench. “When you mentioned you haven’t had a normal sex life, exactly what did you mean?”